


All our secrets

by Beyondtheveil



Series: Beyond Merthur series [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Banishment, Everyone Loves Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27041080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beyondtheveil/pseuds/Beyondtheveil
Summary: Inspired by Life After Arthur written by OwlsWithFins“Lord have mercy! Just when I thought I was doing the big reveal – you go me one better.”Just where did he go between visits to Camelot?Merwaine secrets finally revealed.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Isolde/Tristan (Merlin)
Series: Beyond Merthur series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973599
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	1. Secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OwlsWithFins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlsWithFins/gifts), [gwaine_loves_apples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwaine_loves_apples/gifts).



> This work was inspired by OwlWithFins "Life After Arthur", which is wonderful! Here's my version of what happened when Merlin (and a voluntary Gwaine) got banished from Camelot by Arthur.
> 
> Just to be clear the Graphic Depictions tag is for Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting off

They were riding along the edge of a stream, on the northern edge of Darkling Wood. The ride had been easy, the day warming up and promising clear skies for the journey ahead. Merlin kept his eyes on the water as he spoke, watching rivulets twisting and winking around the rocks in the riverbed in the morning sun. “I’m sorry for keeping my Magic from you Gwaine. I can’t help but wonder if everything would have been different if I’d allowed myself to have a friend to confide in”.  
  
Gwaine glanced at his friend and followed his gaze to the stream gurgling lyrically beside them. “We all have our secrets Merlin. They can be burdensome things. It’s our personal choice to keep them and I believe it should be our personal choice to reveal them when and if . . . and to whom we see fit.”  
  
Merlin looked over at his friend – hell he was gorgeous - rugged and full of mischief and yet capable of deep sensitivity and untold kindness. Loyal and honour-bound to a fault. Resistant to taking what was rightfully his at birth and preferring to prove his worth and valour when called to do so. There had been no greater evidence of this than upon their recent banishment from Camelot.  
  
Arthur’s decision to banish Merlin upon revealing his magical abilities – all be it presumably for his own protection – had forced Gwaine’s hand. He too had made bold revelations. Most awkwardly that despite his recent Knighthood at the discovery of the Round Table in the Castle of Ancient Kings, he was first and foremost, Merlin’s man. His allegiance would ever be to the Warlock – powers or no – he had shown himself to have integrity, an unwavering generous spirit, and more courage than Gwaine had seen in the King, or any other man.

Merlin’s courage was apparent not just in his willingness and audacity in throwing himself into battle to protect others, but palpable in the valour required to stand up for those who could not stand for themselves; to defend those who did not have a voice; and to wage the sometimes more dangerous private battle of arguing points of view and crucial decisions that would shape a Kingdom, behind closed doors. Merlin risked much in standing up to a King backed by a Law that threatened his very existence on a daily basis.

Gwaine appreciated this, and had shown his ability to grasp it all, in mere moments of Merlin’s revelation. He had not hesitated in standing with Merlin and relinquishing his Knighthood – an honour only made more meaningful because Merlin had believed him worthy of it. Merlin had been deeply moved and awed by his friend’s sense of true honour in that moment – motivated by what was right above what his duty demanded. The long-haired rogue was a conundrum – his loyalty and commitment a baffling contrast to his devil-may-care attitude and nomadic lifestyle.

Merlin had always found the paradox of these traits in his friend most intriguing, causing him to feel there was more to him than his flirtatious barbs and luscious locks. “I have long sensed your secrets, Gwaine. You have shared one or two, but I have always felt that there were more. I have seen them weigh heavily upon you.”

Gwaine looked down, fiddling with Trigor’s reigns. “But you’ve never badgered me about them?” he wondered out loud, finally looking back curiously, at his pale and tired looking friend.

They’ve been riding since first light and could do with a brief stretch. He pulls on the reigns and signals Trigor to come to a stop. Gwaine dismounts smoothly and leads his horse to the stream watching him snuffle amongst the water grasses and sate his thirst. He waits and watches as Merlin does the same with, Nancy, the mare Gwaine had managed to “borrow” from the Inn Keeper that morning.  
  
He’d left a small leather pouch of coins in her stable with a note apologising for the liberty they had taken – in stealing the man’s horse - explaining that they were in great need and that the mare was a loan. Once they made it through to the borders of Mercia, Gwaine would arrange to send her back. They would need a more suitable horse for the kind of travelling he and Merlin would have to do now that they were both exiles of Camelot, anyhow. They could always ride together for a while, Trigor could bare both their weight. Gwaine lost himself for a moment dwelling on thoughts of Merlin pressed close, sharing a horse -  
  
The crunch of Merlin’s boots hitting the ground nearby as he dismounts interrupts Gwaine’s pleasant reverie. Just as well he was going places that were bound make things awkward now that Merlin was stood close by.  
  
“No. I never badgered you” Merlin crossed his arms, pressing his lips together and giving a tiny shrug, “because I agree with you. I know what its like to keep a secret. What it takes to compel a person to keep something so important hidden even from those he loves best. I always felt that you knew you could tell me. If you chose not to, I had to accept that you had good reason to do so”.  
  
Gwaine peeked out through his fringe and gave Merlin a little smile, comforted by his friend’s words. “You’re right, Merlin. There’s never been any doubt that I could trust you with my secrets.”

That was the truth. There had been an instant bond between them. In less than a day of their first meeting Gwaine had revealed his true identity as the son of a noble and exposed the vulnerability borne of it. No other, in all his travels had inspired that level of intimacy. In those first few days after that raucous bar brawl with Arthur in tow, he’d been drawn to Merlin’s openness, his fearlessness and ability to hold his own (particularly against the pomposity of a Royal prat!) but mostly he had been magnetised by Merlin’s easy acceptance of him.

Waking up in Merlin’s bed the next morning, Gwaine had been in awe of the trust and care Merlin had offered him, no questions asked. The man had persuaded his guardian, the court physician no less, to take in a drunkard and a brawler. Convincing Gaius must have been no easy task. The man made Gwaine tremble a little in his boots, feeling like a naughty boy who’d snatched the last apple without permission, under the scrutiny of the man’s fierce eyebrow. Gwaine shook off the memory and turned his attention to blue eyes, fond and grateful.  
  
“Well, truth be told, Merlin, in my case the reason I haven’t been forthcoming with my secrets is because I always hoped that someday, I would be able to show you rather than tell you.”  
  
“I’m intrigued” Merlin smiled back, a little flirtatiously.

Gwaine took a step away from Trigor, moving into Merlin’s space. Merlin can’t help but admire the way the ex-Knight’s muscles ripple and move beneath his sheer tunic as he drops the reigns and reaches a strong arm towards Merlin’s shoulder. His hand falls heavily upon it and then slides, surreptitiously down towards Merlin’s chest. The gesture is subtle and yet the electricity of it is palpable, both on Merlin’s skin beneath his own blue tunic and in the palm of Gwaine’s hand, buzzing all the way to his fingertips. Stopping his hand when it arrives over Merlin’s heart, now rapidly fluttering, hidden within his ribcage, Gwaine gives Merlin his best smirk.  
  
“Well you’ll just have to wait and see my friend” and then there’s a wink, and a flick of his locks before he’s mounting his horse with all the smoothness and swagger that always seems to come so effortlessly to the swashbuckling rogue. “C’mon” he calls urging his horse forward.  
  
Merlin huffs out a laugh. As he reaches up to grip Nancy’s mane, he feels his hands tremble a little with the brief assault on his senses. This feeling of being slightly off kilter is now becoming a regular occurrence when the bearded man is near, and particularly at his touch. A touch that was once comforting and warm and now feels _all_ that and yet confusing and unnerving somehow. Continuing to mull this over, he takes his mount and follows in Gwaine’s wake.

After riding in comfortable silence for a little way since their brief stop at the stream, Gwaine announced, “I want you to meet some special friends of mine, Merlin. We should be passing through their village mid-afternoon.”  
  
“Of course. That sounds like fun.” Merlin calls back. “They don’t live in a tavern, do they?” Merlin really wasn’t up to another drinking escapade.  
  
Gwaine threw his head back and laughed. Merlin watched as the man’s locks swung back away from his face exposing his neck, Adam’s apple pointing skywards tempting Merlin- _tempting_ Merlin to what? What was happening to him? Merlin couldn’t fathom why he was suddenly unable to look at his friend - his _friend_ – without lusting after him in some inappropriate way. He needed to get a grip.


	2. Magdalene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lord have mercy! Just when I thought I was doing the big reveal – you go me one better.”
> 
> Just where did Gwaine go between visits?  
> A secret finally revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isolde and Tristan - I always wanted to know more of their story

As the sun, still high in the clear skies above them filters through the canopy, dappling their skin and surrounds in soft patches of light and shadow, the distant sounds of a village can be heard. Gwaine turns in his saddle and calls back, “Another mile or so and we’ll be out of these woods and arriving in the village of Little Tam, Merlin. Home to my dear friends Tristan and Isolde and the finest strawberries you’ll ever taste!”. Gwaine’s smile made his eyes sparkle with unrestrained glee, causing a minor arrythmia inside Merlin’s chest.

“Mmmm” he said recovering quickly with a smile, “I could do with a bushel or two of strawberries - I’m famished!”

“Ha! I don’t think that will be a problem Merlin. Isolde will put on a fine spread for us.”  
  
“Are you sure we won’t be imposing? Arriving unannounced?”  
  
“Not at all. We’re like family, Merls. I’d go as far as to say I’m a bit of a favourite” he said with a mischievous smirk.

It was odd for Merlin to hear Gwaine use the word ‘family’ in such a positive light. From what he knew of Gwaine, the topic of his real family was by no means a source of comfort or connection the ex-Knight had ever wished to linger on. Merlin had a feeling he was about to see a different side to his friend.

~

  
Tristan and Isolde were delighted to see Gwaine. There was much back -slapping and hugging and kissing, and even a little ear-pulling from Isolde who seemed to be admonishing Gwaine for something. However, the huge grin that followed told Merlin it was all part of their familiar banter.

Gwaine suddenly turned back to Merlin, arm out-stretched and gesturing for him to come over. “This” he said pulling Merlin closer and draping his arm over his shoulders, “is my best friend, Merlin. Don’t be fooled by his fae beauty and soft-hearted exterior, he’s one of the bravest and canniest men I’ve ever known”

 _Fae beauty_! Merlin’s cheeks bunched up, flushed with mild embarrassment, a mixture of awkward and pleased. Attempting to deflect attention from himself he quipped, “I could say the same about you, Gwaine – not sure about the canny bit, though!”

“Oi!” Gwaine shouted out a laugh, tugging at Merlin’s hair. The two of them lost themselves in mirth and play-fighting until Isolde’s sultry voice brought them back to their surroundings.  
  
“Well I can see you’ve made quite the impression on our Gwaine. He doesn’t bandy the word “friend” around easily.” The blonde woman wore an open and confident smile, easy in her own skin. She wore trousers and a sleeveless tunic that showed of tanned and lightly muscled arms and a slim figure that indicated a body that was used to toiling in the sun. The warmth of her skin echoed in the welcoming gaze that held Merlin’s. “Welcome to Little Tam, Merlin. I’m Isolde and this is my partner, Tristan. We hope you’ll join us for supper this evening?”  
  
“Thank you, we’d be most grateful if it’s not too much of an imposition” he grinned bashfully. “Gwaine did mention something about strawberries . . .” he added hopefully.  
  
“Ha I bet he did!” Tristan said, eyes rolling. The slightly older man stood close to the woman his arm draped loosely around her shoulders. “It’s like he has some kind of in-built sweet scryer. He always manages to arrive right after Isolde has one of her epic baking episodes.”  
  
“Ah grand!” Gwaine exclaims gleefully clasping his hands together and rubbing them together vigorously. “What have you got for me then, Izzy?”  
  


“Us, Gwaine. They’re for us – you’d do well to remember that!” Tristan mock complained.  
  
“Baked custard, Upside-down apple and raspberry cake, strawberry mini-tarts, and strawberry and apple cider”. Gwaine swooned and then dove in smacking Isolde’s cheek with a wet and loud kiss.  
  
“You magnificent woman – there’s no doubt you were sent by angels!” Isolde shoved her open hand in Gwaine’s face pushing him away whilst using the back of her other hand to wipe away his sloppy kiss.

Merlin watched on, amused by their antics.  
  
“Down boy. You smell like horses and the trail. You won’t be getting anywhere near those treats until you’ve washed up. I take it you and Merlin will be staying for a few days at least? Why don’t you take your friend down to the loft – there should be a basin and towel on the bedding chest by the door.”

~

As they enter the garden a young girl suddenly tore in from the neighbouring brush and threw herself into Gwaine’s arms. She could be no more than 6 years old, a mass of hair flying behind her, the bangs at the side of her face appear damp and have the remnants of twigs and leaves and what appears to be the remains of a silvery cobweb in them, “Uncle Gah-waine!” she squeals, burying her face in the smiling man’s neck as he lifts her into his arms swinging them both around in laughter.

“Maggie-Moo! Look at the state of ya, dolly. You look like you’ve been dragged backwards through a hedge.” He chuckles fondly, his arm grasping the back of her thighs and attempting to shift her up further onto his hip before a small yelp leaves his lips.  
  
“What the . . .?” he pulls her away from his body a little, leaning back to discover the source of the brief poke he’d received in his side.  
  
“Oh sorry, Uncle Gwaine. It’s just Lightning, see?” she giggles. The two shaggy heads look down between them at the small wooden sword that is strapped to the girl’s hip. Even from where he is standing at the edge of the garden, Merlin can see it is beautifully carved from tip of blunted blade to hilt, appearing to have been hewn from one piece of timber. The colour of the wood is grubby and smudged green at the edges, giving away how often it has been handled and used to thrash its way through unsuspecting bushes and enemy ferns in the nearby woods.  
  
“Ah, I see, you and “Lightning” are still attached at the hip. How comes your swordplay, Squire Maggie?”  
  
Jumping down from Gwaine’s arms, Merlin could now get a better look at the little girl. She wore, a long sleeveless leather jacket, which on closer inspection appeared to be a man’s waistcoat, not unlike the one Gwaine sometimes wore. Underneath it, Merlin could make out what was once more than likely a lovely dress. However, now the bedraggled garment looked more of an over-long tunic, its colour a non-descript shade of grey. The belt that secured “Lightning” to her hip gathered the skirts up so that two ratty and mud-covered boots could be seen at the ends of tanned skinny legs. Her knees were evidently smeared with dirt and her legs displayed an array of superficial scratches in varying states of healing. She appeared completely unbothered by them as she tossed her hair out of her face and stood proudly, shoulders back, chest out, one hand on her hip and the other grasping the hilt of her sword at the ready. She was looking up with serious defiance into Gwaine’s amused face.

The man looked like he was struggling to maintain his composure and yet he assumed a serious and dignified look, clasping his hands behind his back and circling the little warrior-maiden as if inspecting a troop of soldiers.  
  
“Feet, Squire!” Gwaine barked. The girl instantly jumped to adjust her footing, turning her toes out and apart, straightening her back. Merlin could see the quick frown that creased her brow, apologetic.

“Hmmf. That’s better. Now Squire Magdalene I have someone very important to introduce you to. He too is a noble warrior and protector of the realm.” The little girl’s eyes widened momentarily betraying her child-like awe and delight at the inference that she too was regarded a warrior, before lunging herself down on one knee and declaring “You humble me Sir Knight. I would be honoured to meet this noble warrior”.  
  
Gwaine looked towards Merlin standing at the edge of the garden locking eyes with him in shared amusement. His eyes still full of mirth but also vulnerable as he silently asked Merlin to keep the game going. “Arise, Squire so that I may present Lord Merlin of Ealdor”.

Merlin could see Isolde and Tristan standing nearby shaking their heads and rolling eyes in exasperated patience at the antics of the pair. It was evident that there was a deep love shared between the four of them. A kind of familiarity that only arises between family members. It tugged at Merlin’s heart that Gwaine had such a ‘family’ to call on. These people clearly treasured him and there was no mistaking that the feeling was mutual.  
  
The little girl rose and turned towards Merlin, looking at him curiously and with a little confusion. Merlin guessed she was probably taking in his scruffy appearance and questioning what kind of Lord would gad about in peasant’s clothing. She was no fool and she turned back to Gwaine quirking an eyebrow as if to say “Really? A Lord, Uncle Gwaine?” Despite her obvious speculation, the girl seemed to make a decision and adjusting her sword upon her hip she verily _swaggered_ towards Merlin. It took all of Merlin’s self-control to maintain his serious visage and he dared not make eye-contact with Gwaine lest he release the guffaw that desperately wanted out.  
  
As she approached he took in her slender girlish arms and mane of chestnut coloured hair that billowed freely about her face. When she neared Merlin, she kept him in her sights as if weighing him up behind the mess of fringe. Tossing it out of her eyes she held his gaze and asked, “What do they call you then?”  
  
The Warlock and Dragonlord, stood dumbfounded, something eerily familiar in her gait. Realising that the clever youngster had likely decided that the game was over, he only just managed to gasp out “Merlin”. She thrust out her hand towards him and grasping his fingers she said “I’m Maggie, pleasure to meet you” she added “ _my Lord_ ” with a wicked grin and tore off into the house.

~

Merlin was left rooted to the spot, his hand still out in front of him and the image of the girl tossing her fringe replaying over and over until a large mass appeared before him. He blinked realising Gwaine was now stood in front of him with a look of mild concern on his face.“You okay there, Merlin?”  
  
Merlin looked up into those warm, intelligent eyes, glancing at the chestnut fringe that never relented in dropping into the handsome man’s face, and yet never seemed to cause him irritation as he repeatedly flipped it away. Merlin’s lips quirked up at the corners in recognition.

“She’s yours” he breathed. It was a statement.  
  
Gwaine’s eyes widened fractionally before bighting his lip and looking down at his feet.  
  
“I guess now you know my secret, Merlin”.  
  
Merlin looked at the gorgeous man in front of him, looking vulnerable and slightly uneasy, but nevertheless resigned to whatever judgement Merlin might dish out. Merlin looked over at Isolde grinning sheepishly at him. His gaze moved to Tristan who, with a smiling twist of his lips nodded his affirmation and looked towards Gwaine, fond and accepting. Merlin couldn’t explain why he felt a sudden upsurge of emotion then, so gladdened by this discovery. Gwaine had a little piece of himself running around emulating the man; wild, wise and wily just like him.  
  
Merlin’s eyes blurred by the tears that had unwittingly made their appearance, reached for Gwaine, clasping his long fingers around the man’s biceps and pulling him towards him. Gwaine looked up surprised to see the emotion in Merlin’s face, worried for a split second that Merlin was angry or jealous – or somehow unhappy about the discovery. But then Merlin’s forehead was pressed against his, eyes laughing and full of tenderness. “She’s yours!” he repeated with delight.


	3. Isolde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isolde and Merlin have a chat

Later that evening after a joyous supper of fruits and baked custard, Merlin and Isolde were sat outside enjoying the warm night, the stars beginning to make their appearance and the moonlight bathing the entire garden in a magical glow. Gwaine was in the cottage, sitting side by side with Maggie on her bed, regaling the little girl with a goodnight story whilst Tristan saw to bedding the horses down for the night in the lean-to barn at the bottom of the garden.

Isolde, oozed serene and casual, her feet propped up on a tree stump nearby as she reclined in her chair, face tilted up towards the night sky. “You can ask me anything you like, Merlin” she smiled, knowingly.  
  
Merlin laughed and looked down at the bay leaf he’d picked from the kitchen garden and was now twirling in his fingers. “So, you and Gwaine . . .”. He left the phrase hanging in the air, not wanting to pry but curious all the same. He was more than willing to take whatever titbit Isolde was willing to offer.  
  
“Ha!” her laughter was ticklish so genuinely delighted by Merlin’s honest curiosity.  
  
“Yes. Gwaine and I. There really was no Gwaine and I. Magdalene’s making was a once glimpsed thing, mere minutes in our lifetime that resulted in six of the richest years I could have fathomed. That little girl is our – Tristan’s and mine – she’s our everything.” She turned to look steadily at Merlin, her eyes full of beseeching love. “She is Gwaine’s too of course. He adores her. He’s very loyal and caring. He visits once every season. Usually stays a week or so. The two are inseparable, scouring the woods for treasure and adventure.”

“Maggie doesn’t know.” Merlin guessed.  
  
“No. Not yet. We decided it would be best for her to grow up with the stability of two parents. I met Tristan shortly after Gwaine left. He was a trader passing through that never really managed to leave” she recalled wistfully. “When I discovered I was pregnant I told Tristan. He vowed to stay and take care of me until Gwaine’s return. Of course, by the time he returned a couple of months later to check on me, Tristan and I were in love and bound to one another in all but wedding vows”.  
  
“Wow. How did Gwaine take the news?” Merlin would have given anything to see that.  
  
“Ha-ha!” the tinkle of Isolde’s laughter gave away the fondness amidst the mirth. “I’ve never seen a man turn so many different shades of colour”. They laughed. “He went from pink, to white to a lovely shade of green in a blink of an eye. I thought he might bolt for a moment. But of course, he never would. He has too much sense of honour to abandon a woman like that.

“Within moments of telling him, Gwaine threw his shoulders back and vowed to support me – to _marry_ even” Merlin’s eyes widened in shock, mirroring the look of disbelief gracing Isolde’s features, “if that’s what I wanted. I informed him that that would be a bit awkward given that I was madly in love with Tristan.” Her small smile indulgent.  
  
“You ought to have seen the look of sheer relief on his face! He picked me up and swung me around happy for me but no doubt happier for himself! Ha-ha.” She smiled recalling the time. “We became a strange little family. The three of us, plus one, baking in the oven”.

“During my pregnancy, Gwaine would bring exotic fruits and berries, and chestnuts. Whilst Tristan sat in the chair you are sitting in now, massaging my feet, Gwaine would sit on this stump and carve and whittle that little sword – “Lightning” as Maggie dubbed it – fashioning it with so much care and dreaming of the kind of child we might have.” She smiled fondly, remembering.

“So, he had hoped for a boy?” Merlin asked smiling too.  
  
“No. Not really. When Tristan pointed out that it could be a girl, Gwaine argued that it made no difference at all: _A girl could be equally as strong and honourable a warrior, as any man._ He went on ad nauseum about some of said maiden-warriors he had encountered on his travels. “Lustfully yes,” she conceded, chuckling, “but respectfully too.”  
  
“Yes. I can account for Gwaine’s genuine respect of women as equals. One of our dear friends, Gwen – and another” his voice saddened remembering Morgana “was skilful with a blade – far superior to most men!” he admitted with a laugh.

~

They sat in quiet contemplation for a few moments, listening to crickets chirping and the distant sounds of Gwaine’s animated voice telling his heroic tale from within the cottage.

“I owe Gwaine my life, Merlin” he raised his head, locking eyes with the woman as she returned the gaze with serious sincerity. “My ex husband was a gambling man, a drinker and a thug. Don’t ask me why I chose him” she laughed humourlessly. “That’s a tale for another night” she continued a small smile playing on her lips.

“I worked as a barmaid at the tavern in a village not too far over. Gwaine was a regular from time to time. You know what he’s like. _Entertaining_ is an understatement.” She beamed. “The whole pub couldn’t help but fall in love with him and thrill when he would return after some quest or other. People would gather to hear his tales and bawdy songs and he would drink, eat and bed whatever was on offer with untold enthusiasm”. They both burst into fits of laughter, acknowledging the truth of it.

“It’s how we found out about you.”

Merlin looked up surprised. “He spoke of me?”  
  
“He didn’t shut up about you” she chuckled. Merlin could stop the blush that crept its way up his neck and was grateful that the moonlight was so forgiving. “Merlin this and Merlin that. _He’s the best friend I’ve ever had_ he would declare all dewy-eyed at the end of the night.” Isolde looked kindly at Merlin, “he cares deeply about you, you must know that”.

“He’s a great friend” Merlin managed to croak, nodding in acquiescence.  
  
“Hmmm _friend_ . . . yes well, we’ll come back to that” she murmured, causing a frantic flutter in Merlin’s chest.

“My ex was sadly gambling our livelihood away and I would take on extra shifts at the tavern to make ends meet. He didn’t like me working there but he was also glad to have the income to support his gambling and drinking, so he allowed it.”  
  
“Gwaine is a ridiculous flirt but he would never, ever over-step and he knew I was married. He was playful and frankly I loved the attention. Eric barely gave me a second glance constantly drunk or passed out. I was thankful to have someone notice me. So Gwaine would flirt, no more and no less than he would with the other barmaids – and _barmen_ \- truth be told!” they both snorted at that, “I never reciprocated. Of course, I found him attractive. But my vows still meant something to me. I would never betray Eric no matter how much of a thuggish arse he was.” Isolde’s face took on a faraway look as she went on with her story.  
  
“This one night, Eric was in the bar and unbeknownst to me, he’d just lost another large sum of money to a traveller on the dice. As a result, he was surly and loud and drunk. Without any provocation he grabbed me roughly by the apron-strings and forced me onto his lap, causing my tray to tumble over. Gwaine was sat nearby and instantly rose to give me a hand with the spilled pitcher. I tried to get off Eric’s lap to help but Eric gripped my arm hard, yanking me back and digging his nails into my skin. I couldn’t help the hiss of pain that escaped me, and I could see that Gwaine had noticed.

“I recognised that look in a man’s eye when they are incensed by a dishonourable act and ready to intervene. I had seen Gwaine step in to defend both men and women who suffered such abuse in the tavern from time to time. His chivalry was not unfamiliar to anyone that knew him.”

Merlin had listened with trepidation as Isolde story unfolded. Even without having been there himself, he recognised the Gwaine Isolde described, knowing his friend to be capable of all that the woman described; all the way from flirting to fairness. He now looked up dreading where this was going.  
  
“I knew that if provoked, no matter how innocently, Eric was prone to violence. Unfortunately, I had the scars and bruises to prove it. Hidden of course, the shame of being beaten by a husband is not easily worn on the sleeve.”

Merlin fought at once with feelings of rage at this man for hurting his beloved wife; for the sense of shame Isolde carried for being treated so; and for the impotence he felt at not being able to change any of what beautifully spirited woman had endured. He knew without a doubt that Gwaine could not have stood by with that sense of impotence.  
  
“I implored Gwaine with my eyes to walk away. Our Gwaine is no fool and quickly discerned that to act in that moment would not bode well for me. He righted the pitcher and simply uttered, c _areful lass_ ”.  
  
“Sadly that’s all it took. Eric was no fool either. He recognised the chivalry in the gesture and decided to use it as damning evidence of my infidelity. He stood up knocking me to the floor in the process announcing my workday was done. He snatched at my arm and shoved me out of the tavern towards home.”  
  
Isolde’s voice betrayed her here for the first time in the retelling. She felt the anguish of the helplessness of that moment as if it were only days ago instead of years. Trapped in her circumstances, loathe to bring disrepute to her husband and further shame and evidence of what she endured in the privacy of her own home. She relived the dread of how and when he might erupt. Where would he aim his blows? Would he force her this time? Would she survive it? Would she be able to hide it?  
  
“Eric did not speak to me on the short walk home. He waited until we had entered the house and the door was bolted and then he smacked me across the face, knocking me to the floor. I instantly scrambled to my feet clutching my face and he laughed at me. Called me pathetic - an ungrateful slattern. He shoved me with his fists and screamed in my face spitting and cursing, puce with rage.

“I dared to shove him back in a brief moment of rebelliousness, but I no longer recall how I ended up on the floor, face down. I do remember him kicking me between the legs. Over and over. The impact of each kick reverberated up my spine.” Her cheeks were dry, but her eyes shone with the horror of the memory. “I was devastated” she whispered looking straight ahead but seeing something terrifying and only visible in her mind’s eye. “I recall thinking at the time,” her voice hushed, “Imagine if I had been with child? It would surely have perished.”  
  
Merlin’s fists were clenched, the knuckles white, his palms stinging where he knew his nails had broken skin. He could feel a silent sob rising in his chest demanding a release that he could not, _would not_ relinquish. Oh, the courage and resilience of this dear, dear woman, to have endured such inhumane treatment at the hands and feet of someone sworn to love, honour and protect her.

“Somehow I got on my feet. I knew I had to get out or he would surely kill me. I made a run for the door and as I opened it, he shoved me through with an almighty kick to the back. I landed face first in the dirt and remember seeing a pair of men’s worn boots that I didn’t recognise as belonging to Eric. Then I remember feeling weightless as strong, gentle hands picked me up off the ground. I was lifted to a grassy patch and wrapped in someone’s coat. I felt groggy as I had hit my head in my final fall. All I could make out was Eric’s roaring and the crunching sounds of fists and pots breaking. I heard a gasp and then silence.  
  
“Gwaine had come for me not able to leave me to my fate “, she smiled sadly. “Eric had stabbed him with an old iron bolt we used to prop up the front door on summer nights. Gwaine managed to throw Eric off him. He landed in a drunken mess and mercifully banged his head on the broken pot. It severed an artery in his neck, and he bled out quietly and painlessly. It was more than he deserved” she finished quietly.  
  
Merlin couldn’t help but think good riddance, but he didn’t utter a word. This was Isolde’s story and he could feel what it cost her to share this part of herself. Even with the years that had passed in between, he could hear in the tremble of her voice and slight tremors visible in her limbs as she sat almost still in the moonlight, the adrenalin that coursed through her even now as her body and mind debated whether to fight or flee from a danger no longer present but with the power to echo and provoke terror and urgency.  
  
“Gwaine wasn’t so lucky. His wound became infected in the end and he was laid up for a long time. I did the best I could to nurse him back to health. He stayed with me.” She turned to face Merlin before continuing. “We were never together. I didn’t love him – well at least not in that way. We cared for each other as any two good people do.

“Gwaine listened. I sobbed my shame and terror. Admitting that what I found hardest was forgiving myself for allowing myself to be treated so. For my complicity in covering up not only his treacherous behaviour but for the treachery that I expressed towards my own well-being. I feared that I would never be able to trust myself to love anyone again.  
  
“Gwaine assured me that I would find love again.” She said wistfully. “When the day he was to leave arrived, I was much healed. Stronger in body and mind. I was so grateful to him. I made him a farewell dinner and he brought a bottle of wine. We lay together that one night; a final act of gratitude and love for this beautiful man who had rescued me, not only from Eric’s deadly blows, but by standing by me while I discovered, that with time, I could heal myself.”

The night was still, there was no breeze and only the light hooting of an owl could be heard distantly. “And that, dear Merlin”, she concluded, giving him an incongruous but dazzling smile, “is the love that made our precious Maggie.”  
  
Merlin’s cheeks were damp with love and compassion for Isolde, and for Gwaine. Just when he thought he couldn’t love this man any more than he already did – yes, he was admitting it to himself now. He _loved_ Gwaine, was _in love_ with Gwaine. Completely. Utterly.  
  
He sat up in his chair, reaching forward to lay his hand on hers, and squeezing gently. Isolde caught his tear-streaked face and his gentle, troubled soul alight in his eyes, as he gazed at her. She laughed then and stood walking around the stump to where Merlin sat and embraced him. Merlin reciprocated surprised at the gesture. “No wonder he’s in love with you”, she whispered into his hair. “You’re as soft as he is” she pulled back and beamed at him, eyes shining.  
  
Merlin went to protest but it was no use. The woman had just bared her soul. He wasn’t going to belittle that gesture by lying to her face. Instead he gave her a shy, sheepish smile.  
  
“Thank you Isolde, for sharing that with me. I find I have no words . . . except to acknowledge how blessed Maggie is to have such exceptional parents. I’m especially in awe of her courageous and strong mother.”

Isolde wrapped him up in another hug then, speechless. That’s how Gwaine and Tristan found them.  
  
“Ahh I see we’ve been sharing more secrets, hey?” Gwaine smirked, knowingly.  
  
Wordlessly, Merlin stood, gently untangling himself from Isolde’s hold. He took two strides and was upon Gwaine, gently grasping his chin with the fingers of one hand and lightly caressing Gwaine’s cheek in the other. Merlin kissed Gwaine gently before taking him in his arms. The gaping surprise on Gwaine’s face over Merlin’s shoulder, was clearly visible to Tristan and Isolde who watched on with amusement. They exchanged silent looks and took themselves off to bed.  
  



	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merwaine yumminess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little warm and wild between our boys - hope you enjoy!

When Merlin finally relinquished his hold on the man, Gwaine asked, “Woah! What was that for? Not that I’m complaining, mind.”

Merlin gave him a watery smile and started, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re amazing . . . truly amazing. You continually take my breath away. . . “. One lone tear spilled from the corner of his eye making a crooked track down the side of his face. He hesitated for a beat and then with greater purpose and strength in his voice, he continued.

“And, I love you.” He gave a quick nod as if agreeing with himself. “I could beat around the bush and wait to feel out the situation a little more to see if my feelings are reciprocated. But frankly Gwaine, I don’t care whether you feel the same. I love you Gwaine and you deserve to know. You’re my best friend, my greatest supporter, my faithful companion my unrelenting source of strength. You’re also unfairly handsome and I can’t seem to stop noticing that. Whatever happens next is fine, but _that_ truth right here, right now, _that’s_ my final secret. Now you know everything.”  
  
Merlin was glowing. His skin looked incandescent in the moonlight. His eyes were ablaze with the fire that Gwaine had only seen in Merlin when he was truly impassioned by something, and quite prepared to take a risk because the risk was worth it. He’d seen that look before but never quite like this. Never so openly directed at just him, for him, for them. Gwaine was ridiculously aroused. Embarrassingly, so.“Lord have mercy! Just when I thought I was doing the big reveal – you go me one better.”

Gwaine looked exasperated brushing his fingers through his hair. Merlin looked at the discombobulated man, searching for a clue. He had no idea how Gwaine felt about his confession. He was sure of the attraction between them, but he had always had the suspicion that Gwaine would be terrified at the prospect of love. He hoped the once-Knight wouldn’t run from him. Having finally faced his own feelings Merlin desperately wanted to avoid losing Gwaine’s friendship above all else. He was prepared to let the prospect of love between them go - _somehow_. However, he most definitely would prefer not to!  
  
“I’m surprised.” Gwaine began. “Mostly,” he grinned, “I’m thrilled. I really thought I was going to have to woo you; convince you of my worthiness.” He shook his head, eyes dropping to somewhere below Merlin’s keen stare. “This is unexpected.” The man looked genuinely baffled. It made Merlin snort with laughter. He stepped closer, chests touching.  
  
“You ridiculous man. How can you question your worthiness? The real question here is . . . do you feel the same about me?” Merlin’s eyes were dark and earnest in the moonlight.

“Hell yes, Merls. I’ve loved you since you made Arthur pay for that massive night, I had at the tavern that first time in Camelot!” The both laughed at that. Gwaine leaned in and rested his forehead against Merlin’s and grasping both of Merlin’s hands in his. He brought them up to his lips gently kissing each of his fingertips in turn.

“Seriously, I have loved you for the longest time Merlin. I always thought I would have to step aside . . . for someone else”. Gwaine really didn’t want to bring the King’s name up at a time like this. “I would have done so willingly, but the fact remains that I would never be able to stop loving you. There is no greater man I know – no one with as much courage and honour and kindness in their heart. You are selfless to a fault and you’re fucking magical to boot! How could I not love all that -? “  
  
Merlin dived in then planting his plump lips firmly on Gwaine’s and pressing their bodies together. Gwaine’s gasp was seized by Merlin’s tongue as it pushed its way greedily into his mouth sliding over teeth and searching for the other. Upon finding it, Merlin enthusiastically wrapped his lips around Gwaine’s tongue sucking gently and eliciting a rumbling groan from the man who was simply holding on for dear life at this stage. Merlin was wild and hungry and wanting. Wanting Gwaine.   
  
Gwaine’s feeble mind was finding it a challenge to keep up as he slid his arm around Merlin’s waist and thrust the other hand in Merlin’s hair, using it to steady himself more than anything else.  
  
“Merlin!” he gasped “Gods, Merlin.”  
  
Merlin ground his hips into Gwaine’s unlocking his lips to pant Gwaine’s name into his neck. Sweet licks and nips, he dragged his lips across Gwaine’s jaw and hovered over his ear whispering, hot and desperate “I want you, Gwaine”. Gwaine’s knees actually trembled at the words his gut clenching in tandem with the desire coiling in his groin. He could feel the dampness growing in his trousers and the thick hard muscle there straining for release.  
  
“Yes!” he gasped “me too . . . want you” Mustering all the self-control he had available, Gwaine dragged his lips away and stepped back, gripping Merlin’s shirt in his fist at the centre of his chest, simultaneously steadying the man and pushing him back whilst keeping him close within his clutches. Merlin’s face was pure frustration, letting out a tiny groan of irritation as he locked emblazoned eyes on his soon to be – _not soon enough_ – lover.  
  
Gwaine’s glare was equally vehement, imploring Merlin to be patient and reasonable for the greater good. Not letting go of Merlin’s shirt he grasped Merlin’s hand in his other and led them away from the cottage and its inhabitants and towards the barn at the bottom of the garden. Their panting breaths and determined steps would no doubt be audible to anyone sitting in the darkened garden, thankfully empty now. Upon entering the barn, the horses knickered and stomped about briefly before recognising their masters and returning to their standing slumber.  
  
Gwaine released Merlin’s shirt to gather up some spare blankets bundled near the entrance and with Merlin’s hand still tightly clasped in his grip, continued their journey to the hay loft at the back of the barn. Upon arriving at the wooden ladder, he tossed up the blankets and then snatched Merlin’s shirt once more spinning him around so that his back pressed against the ladder and sought his lips once more. The two men now wild and groping at anything they could reach, their whimpers and moans indistinguishable.

The men’s desire had finally been ignited and the blaze was raging, fuelled by all the years of silent wondering, waiting and holding back. Abruptly, Merlin pulled back taking Gwaine’s face in his hands, separating their lips and pressing their foreheads together. Ignoring Gwaine’s whines of protestation, he caught his breath gulping in big breaths and making harsh and laboured sounds through his nose.

  
“Gwaine” he tried. “We’ve waited this long.” He panted “Clearly, we want each other “, he smiled, “- desperately. But let’s not lose ourselves in a rush.” The men strained against each other. Unbridled desire evident in the tension of their bodies and their eyes, glassy and darkened.

“I want to be with you.” He stroked Gwaine’s wrist with his thumb, and Gwaine felt the barely harnessed pressure there threatening to cut his circulation off at the pulse. “I want to know you in this deeply intimate way.” He sighed, eyes molten and dark. “I want feel every inch of your skin beneath my fingertips. Kiss and taste you -”

Gwaine groaned at this, whispering “You want to kill me!”  
  
Merlin laughed, breathless. “No, I certainly don’t. I just don’t want to come in my pants before I get a chance to see you naked”, he shrugged goofily. Gwaine threw his head back, grinning wildly and gasping with hilarity despite his coiling need. He swept his hair back from his face, relenting. “Alright, alright. Valid point.” he laughed.

Gwaine took a deliberate step back releasing his hold on this magical man who could literally bring him to his knees right now (and hopefully momentarily), and gallantly swept his arm in an upward sweep towards the loft. “After you my beloved” Merlin the sap that he was, melted at the use of the word ‘beloved’ and gently stroked Gwaine’s cheek, giving him a chaste peck on the lips before swinging up on the ladder and ascending. Gwaine hungrily took in the view above him, grateful for the fact that he needed two hands to hoist himself up the rungs of the ladder, for fear of grabbing Merlin’s arse and taking a bite. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t later when he had the chance. However, he wasn’t going to risk plummeting them both to their deaths because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.


	5. Declarations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like starting your day with a good breakfast

A slither of dawn light streaked its way through a loose board near a corner of the barn roof. It cast a shaft of golden light across the tangle of limbs and hair, nestled and bound snuggly – a perfect fit – on the soft bed of hay and blankets in the loft. Merlin’s face was all but buried in the space between Gwaine’s neck and his collarbones. The ex-Knight’s hair was a tumble of knots cascading over his fingers, now threaded loosely in the shaggy mess of Merlin’s mop. Merlin’s arms were tucked close to his body, his palms adhered to Gwaine’s well defined pectoral muscles, his long fingers loose and twitching sleepily every now and then. The pale skin of his back covered in smudgy red bruises and welts, now held tenderly in Gwaine’s embrace. Gwaine’s lips were still pressed to the top of Merlin’s head exactly how he had fallen asleep, completely wrecked after their endless night of passion.   
  
The persistent sound of a rooster crowing its praise to the sun filtered through the men’s perfect slumber, rousing first one then the other. It was such a tender scene to witness as each man stirred at first with mild irritation at the graceless squawks of the morning fowl. Then, there was the tiny shifts of awareness at the warm touch and breath of the other, right on the heels of the heady realisation that what they had awoken to was more than what they were to each other the day before. The gentle caress of fingertips on cheekbones. Soft and small dry kisses on noses, lightly bristled chins, ears and eyelids. Whispers and murmurs, at once senseless and profound with meaning. The gradual opening of eyes, sleepy and smiling, staring in awe and a little shyly at the love that had been revealed between them.

“Morning, love” Gwaine rasped.

“Morning, heart” Merlin’s deep slumbery tone low and resonant reverberated into the air between them.  
  
Gwaine smiled at that, lips still pressed together, almost reluctant to unleash the blossoming smile barely contained underneath. Merlin’s eyes twinkled back at him even as he pressed himself closer into Gwaine’s hips. Lying on their sides, the accidental bump of their erections elicited a mixture of gasps and groans, quickly swallowed up by lips and hot mouths drinking thirstily. It was an easy move for Gwaine to gather Merlin in his arms and push him upwards so that he could glide down to press hot licks and open-mouthed kisses to the centre of his chest. At the same time, he dragged his cock down alongside Merlin’s then over his balls and under so that he could slip inside him.  
  
Merlin’s groan was reminiscent of the aches and pleasured pains he’d received the night before but also the still unquenched desire that flared inside him. His muscles fluttered and gripped around Gwaine as he threw his head back and thread his warm fingers into Gwaine’s hair for purchase. As one they began a slow and sensuous undulation of hips and grinding deep penetration. Merlin’s mouth was wet and open in a silent sigh of ecstasy as he moved. Gwaine pressed his nose into Merlin’s sternum inhaling his scent and barely emitting low growls of pleasure.

Quietly, sleepily they moved together, deepening their connection in slow thrusts so that their insides felt molten and slick with desire. Until, all at once Merlin let out a slow guttural moan and then he was panting and gulping down big breaths around his release. The sound of Merlin’s pleasured moans was enough to bring Gwaine to the edge and with a few shallow pumps of his throbbing cock he grasped Merlin’s shoulders and lunged upwards to cover his gasping mouth clumsily with his own. He pressed his thick wet tongue into Merlin’s open mouth simultaneously sending his release deep inside Merlin. He continued to come in waves until his arms and legs were a trembling mess barely hanging onto his lover.

They fell back onto their backs still connected for a moment, before Gwaine slipped out making Merlin wince. He managed to reach for one of Merlin’s hands with his own, squeezing it gently in apology. Not yet able to manage words. Merlin squeezed back, still catching his breath.  
  
“Woah” he finally breathed.  
  
“Yeah” sighed Gwaine.  
  
“Fuck” they said together, making them both huff with helpless laughter.

“I don’t think I’ll ever walk again Gwaine” Merlin laugh-complained.  
  
“Me neither. My legs are like custard”  
  
“Yeah it’s not my legs I’m worried about” Merlin half grimaced and grinned.

  
“I’m sorry love” Gwaine rolled onto his side struggling to prop himself up on an elbow to look worriedly into Merlin’s eyes, “are you ok?”  
  
Merlin smiled groggily up at Gwaine, reaching for his face to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, and continuing to stroke the soft bit of skin just below it. “Couldn’t be better, my heart. Truly. This is the kind of pain I’ve only ever fantasized about”.  
  
“Really? You’ve had fantasies about me?” Gwaine grinned with delight.  
  
“‘Course I have. Don’t let it go to your head. How else was I to cope with all the times you were off on your travels or questing in parts unknown?”  
  
“I’m glad. I had them about you too, you know. Do you realise how hard it was – _I was_ – waking up in your bed, with the smell of you all around me and not being able to have you?” Merlin laughed.  
  
“Well you can have me anytime you like now” Merlin giggled. His giggles petered out, then suddenly serious he added “if you still want, that is?” He looked so uncertain then, it tugged at Gwaine’s heart to see this man he loved so much, questioning his significance like that.  
  
“Merlin,” he began earnestly, gathering Merlin’s hands in his. “Listen carefully ‘coz its important you understand this. You are _it_ for me. You’re everything I didn’t even know I wanted. There is no one else I’d rather share my life with, nowhere I would want to be without you, nothing that means more to me than you. I know it’s a bit soon, but I know my heart and we’ve wasted too much time already. I love you and if you’ll have _me_ , I want to have _you_ \- always.”

Merlin’s lips trembled, his eyes filling, he clamped his eyelids down tightly, struggling to hold back the flood of feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. Gripping tightly to Gwaine’s hands, he finally looked up at Gwaine’s open honest face and whispered, “I want that too. So much” and then let out a sob that could have been as much laugh as it was cry. Gwaine smiled and bent down to kiss Merlin’s damp eyelids, gently sipping up his tears between soft kisses until finally landing softly and so tenderly on Merlin’s lips. They stayed like that for some time, until Merlin reached up to wrap his arms around Gwaine’s neck.  
  
“I never thought I could be this happy” he whispered.


	6. The Apothecary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock, Knock. Who's there?

Gwaine was making his way on foot as the large wagon, weighed heavy with baskets of macadamias, assorted berries, pink crisp apples and sun ripened strawberries pulled up beside him. He looked up at the man at the reigns, exchanging smiles and pleasantries. The wagon driver became quite animated and Gwaine suddenly threw his head back in laughter. He reached up to meet the man’s arm and they clasped hands briefly with a nod. The long-haired man took a step back and lifted his hand in a wave as the cart continued on its way out of the tiny village.

Inside the dusty apothecary Merlin watched the scene from the little window above his desk. He was stood on a beautifully carved and sturdy stool, reaching up to retrieve just the book he’d needed from one of the shelves above his workstation. It was one of the many shelves, that covered every wall in the small cottage; Heavy with books, jars and spools of jute used to tie the array of herbs now drying in bunches from the thatched roof. Like the stool, it too was etched with the tell-tale signature that proclaimed it as a matching set. These, along with his workbench, the mantle over the fireplace and the timber frame of the daybed tucked away in a quiet corner, had been carved by the same hand. It filled Merlin’s heart with treacly warmth as he reverently traced over the swirling carvings with his fingertips.  
  
Merlin took in a deep slow breath and whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods and continued to watch as Gwaine turned and made his way across the dirt road toward the broad oak door at the front. Gwaine’s gait was different now: purposeful and with the air of a man who no longer needed to be constantly on the alert for danger or longing to seek out the nearest tavern to escape his dreary lot.

His mane, was pulled back and tied at the top of his head in a twist with a fine leather strap, preventing it from flopping down as he inspected preserves, sweets and the extensive range of fruit and berry ciders they had recently developed. Isolde and Tristan had built another lean-to at the southern end of their property and between the four of them they had developed a thriving business that catered, not only to Little Tam, but neighbouring larger cities of Mercia and the Northern Plains.   
  
It had been a little over two years since they had first arrived in Little Tam, and one year since they’d moved into their home. It had taken nearly the full four seasons for them to restore the abandoned cottage at the edge of the village, set back and concealed within the borders of the oak laden forest of Arden.

They had built the apothecary first so that Merlin could use it to see his patients, mix potions and see to his collection of herbs. The rooms at the back had been added in time, including the small kitchen that looked out on the edge of the lush green forest surrounding them. There was a thin trickle of creek that bordered the garden – at once providing them access to fresh water and the aesthetic pleasure of water sounds and abundant bird life that would visit.

The little yard was sheltered from the road and had over the years provided much needed sanctuary to all manner of beasts with injured wing, barbed hoof or lame paw. There had even been a large stag that had wandered in late one afternoon with a broken arrow lodged painfully in its flank.

No matter how many times he had witnessed it, Gwaine remained in awe of the way his soft-natured partner managed to stride confidently towards these animals and tenderly yet purposefully, lay his hands upon their injured limbs, to inspect, clean, bandage and heal them. It wasn’t the magic he wielded that awed him, it was the unwavering trust and near reverence these animals willingly surrendered to the Warlock. Merlin seemed to communicate without words and the animals in turn communicated with him.

The emergence of the Stag had been a bit of a shock to Gwaine. His years of wandering had shown him the way an injured animal could thrash and bolt violently when in pain. He had called out to Merlin in warning as the warlock tentatively placed the fingertips of one hand near the edge of the wound and another open palm strong and sure, high on the Stag’s neck as if to placate and calm the beast. Gwaine watched, heart thumping in his chest as the injured stag and the dark-haired man seemed to share a moment of soundless conversation and then the Stag had raised his stately head and looked over Merlin’s head in Gwaine’s direction.

Liquid brown eyes seemed to lock with his own, weighing him up and concluding that it was satisfied with what it found there. The beast let out a soft snort and turned its head back towards the trees, submitting his body to Merlin’s ministrations. Gwaine couldn’t help but feel he had passed some sort of test. He wasn’t sure what he was being tested for that day – nevertheless he was glad he had made the cut in the Stag’s eyes.

The bell over the oak door jingled as it was opened, and Merlin could hear Gwaine stomping his boots outside to shake off the mud and pebbles from the road. As the top of Gwaine’s head rounded the door, Merlin’s heart still managed to stutter in his chest, even after two years of being together. He blushed at his girlishness but quietly hoped that that feeling would never fade. Gwaine was craning his neck looking through to the back room having swept his gaze briefly across the main room and missed Merlin, still stood in the corner on his stool. It made Merlin giggle inaudibly as he watched a slight frown crease his lover’s brow, the beginnings of disappointment revealing itself. Merlin stood as still as he could manage, still clutching the book and barely breathing with amusement.  
  
Gwaine strode into the back rooms, opening and shutting doors and huffing with dissatisfaction at the emptiness he found therein. The back door opened and shut and Merlin delighted in the soft “Damn!” he heard uttered as Gwaine stepped back inside. Hands on hips, an air of frustration permeating his features, Gwaine strode back into the main room standing in its centre and gazing into the middle distance deep in thoughts that were clearly of a puzzling nature. Merlin was almost shaking with laughter now and was afraid his silent hysterics or maddening heartbeat where going to give him away. He took a slow deep breath in through his nose and as casually as possible broke the silence, “Looking for something?”

Gwaine flinched, reaching for a sword that had not been on his hip for years – the play swords he had carved for Maggie not included – and then took in the slender form of his dishevelled lover, stood on a stool with a mischievous light twinkling and creasing those pools of blue he so loved to dive into. “Merlin! You devil. What prey tell are you up to stood up there hiding in the corner?”  
  
“I’m not hiding. Simply doing some research. You’re not very observant are you, my heart?”  
  
“Oh I’m observant enough. I can see when there’s been a devil lying in wait to catch an innocent man unawares.” Gwaine’s features had a slight rosiness to them as he realised, he’d been the object of silent scrutiny, his emotions clearly on display and the delightful thing was, he didn’t care. In moments he was stood at the foot of the stool his arms already reaching for the wily warlock and pulling his hips towards him. “Oi! Careful-,” Merlin exclaimed, wobbling wildly.  
  
“It’s fortunate I arrived when I did,” Gwaine went on “as I can see how precarious this research of yours can be” and with that he had brushed one arm behind Merlin’s knees causing him to topple. Gwaine expertly swept his legs out from under him so that he landed with a soft huff in Gwaine’s waiting arms. Merlin gave an embarrassing squawk as he was gathered into his lover’s arms, bridal style. The “Hey!” he had intended to emit in protest sounded more like a “Hmphh!” as Gwaine’s lips muffled the sound with his open mouth and claimed the prize he had been searching for.  
  
Their game was quickly forgotten as the kiss instantly flared into something deep and dirty and Merlin’s legs now sturdily on the ground began to push their way between Gwaine’s and determinedly steered them both towards the day bed. With a gold flash of his eyes the oak door was bolted, and the curtains drawn across the windows leaving the lovers to privately demonstrate, how much each other’s absence _all day,_ had been noticed.  
  


~

Merlin lay sprawled out loose and lazy over Gwaine’s chest, placing repeated tiny pecks on Gwaine’s nose. The other man lay there soft and satisfied, eyes closed and completely surrendered to his lover’s ridiculous affections.

“Was that Alfric I saw with the cart for Nemeth?” Merlin asked by and by.

“Yep. It’s good to see him up and about. He sent his thanks again for your _magical_ treatment. He wanted me to clarify that he was grateful not just for mending his leg but for saving their marriage. He said that if he’d been laid up much longer, Clarissa was going to turn him out. Apparently, Alfric isn’t the best patient”  
  
Merlin laughed, his body shifting in giggles and causing a ripple effect of wriggles in Gwaine’s nether regions where their bodies made pleasant contact. Gwaine’s arms reached for Merlin’s arse, his hands kneading the firm mounds of flesh there and pressing him closer in teasing circles. Merlin gasped in sudden pleasure and shifted away, “Oi we better not start that again or I won’t finish those batches for Gripe Sickness I promised the Headmistress for tomorrow morning. She’s my best customer” Gwaine pulled him back, trapping the man between his legs, defiantly.  
  
“I thought _I_ was your best customer” Gwaine squeezed the warlock closer in mock outrage.  
  
Merlin wriggled and laughed, more so, causing them both to gasp and Merlin to give an involuntary thrust of his hips. They were both pathetic really. With great determination and a frantic untangling of limbs, Gwaine let out a frustrated sigh and relented his hold on the man, who ended up tumbling off the daybed and onto the floorboards.

“Ow!” Merlin complained, getting onto his feet and rubbing his bony knees and reaching for his discarded trousers. Gwaine chuckled at the absurdity of the man. A sudden thud, which sounded more like a slap on the back door, interrupted their ludicrous post-coital flounderings. Both men looked up curiously to the sound that repeated itself once more – louder and definitely more of a slap. Gwaine reached for his breeches as Merlin finished tying the laces on his own and made his way through to the kitchen at the rear of the house.

“Hello!” Merlin called as he walked to the window, half-shuttered from the afternoon sun, and peaked through the gap. He frowned. There was no-one there.  
  
“What is it?” asked Gwaine entering the kitchen.   
  
“Don’t know. There’s no one there.”

  
Gwaine strode forward opening the latch and swinging the door open. He was just about to step out into the yard, when Merlin pulled him back at the waist, with a hasty “Wait!”

“What is it?” he asked the back of Merlin’s head who had already crouched down to his knees and was bending over the stoop.   
  
“I think it’s a falcon.” Gwaine bent over Merlin’s pale back to get a better look, gripping the doorframe so as to not fall over his lover.

“It must have flown into the door,” Merlin continued, “– strange, it’s not like a falcon to act like that. He’s just knocked himself out a bit. Considering he did it at least twice that we heard, I’m not surprised. Pass me the towel hanging behind the door, love, please” Gwaine did as bid and watched as Merlin carefully folded the dark bird’s wings and used the thin towelling to scoop it up, raising and holding it up to the light. Gwaine tugged on the warlock’s waistband to help guide Merlin up from the stoop as he lifted the injured animal inside and onto the kitchen board.

“She has something tangled near her talons.”  
  
“Merls, that’s not something tangled. It’s a missive I think” the astonishment evident in Gwaine’s voice, was laced with an edge of trepidation.  
  
The handsome, shirtless men looked at each other, all playfulness gone now, replaced instead by concern and a sense of foreboding that they had not endured for a couple of years. Yet the hardness of the feeling that clenched at their bellies and tugged at their hearts came back with aching familiarity.

It had been two blissful years of peace and ease for them. It would appear that the past had caught up with them with two soft thuds on their back door.


	7. A call to Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected Messenger arrives at the Apothecary. A new army is gathering.

Merlin watched the rivulets of water twist and separate, creating ever-new currents as he purposefully threaded his fingers against the stream of water, surging with a power all of its own, over rock and boulder, fallen branch and undulating earth. He marvelled at the way his firm opposition to the natural flow of water could cause such fully formed confident surges to deviate from their preordained path and tumble in new directions with equal strength. He thrilled at the power he held in his hand – nay his fingers – to direct new currents at strange and unexpected angles, splashing over branch and dodging familiar paths, with a mere twitch of his digits. Yet as he cast his gaze further down the river, he couldn’t help but notice that the unexpected deviations eventually eased out to return to flow as one with the larger current.

The observation sparked a ripple of frustration that tightened his chest and threatened to alter the even rhythm of his breathing. He lifted his fingers from the water and slapped it down flat in a petulant gesture. It had little effect on the larger body of water, instead breaking apart into harmless drops that splashed up in his face and left him damp and slightly embarrassed by his tantrum.

Gwaine observed his lover’s squatting form and picked up the bunching in his shoulders and the asymmetry of his shoulder blades, jutting pale and twitchy in the morning sun. The man did not need to see his lover’s face to guess at his emotions. He was so attuned to Merlin’s body language that he could see the way peace gave way to marvel and wonder, the abrupt emergence of irritation that was swiftly overtaken by temper leaving him tense and out of sorts. It all played out as vividly as vibrant strokes of colour on a canvass, bold and clear for all to see and yet only a true connoisseur of the artist in question could ascertain the meaning hidden within the brushstrokes.

Merlin was no doubt battling with questions of destiny and prophecies and the overwhelming burden and helplessness that these themes inevitably inspired. True to form the Warlock found himself in a lonely spiral of frustration, instead of remembering that he was no longer alone and that there would always be others there to support him. Princess Mithian on behalf of Nemeth had proved as much two days after the missive from Camelot had crossed their back doorstep.

Gwaine had been steeping tea at the kitchen window when the magnificent Raven had appeared all at once. It hovered in the window it’s broad wings, a midnight blue, spread wide and tremulous. It’s glittering eyes, slick as onyx fixed on his own soft brown gaze and appeared to question him. “Merlin!” he’d called, his eyes never leaving the bird’s, “there’s someone here to see you”. Somehow, Gwaine had known that it was a some _one._ This unexpected awareness had invariably caused his partner to observe him with something like awe for days after. Gwaine couldn’t say he minded the attention.

The Raven, once invited to enter the cottage, had shapeshifted into the form of a lithe yet muscular man, dressed in light mail in the colours of Nemeth. He sported a shortish triangular beard which, along with a mane of soft curls in the same midnight blue of his Raven form, framed the striking features of his face. The darkness in his eyes was strangely warm and suggested cleverness and wisdom in equal measure. However, it was his wide smile that put Merlin at ease at last as he recognised the family resemblance. “You are Mithian’s brother.” It was offered warmly and with absolute surety, and the way Merlin reached towards the visitor with a ready arm, emphasized that their unexpected guest was most welcome.

“Rodric” the young man smiled reaching for Merlin’s arm and grasping it firmly “I’m guessing you must be Merlin, but I recognise you as Emrys” he finished with a lowering of eyes and respectful bow of his head. Merlin looked momentarily shocked at the buzzing warmth that radiated from the man but then swiftly recalled their unexpected guest had arrived in his feathered form.

“You have magic.” This time there was both surprise and a question in his tone.  
  
“I most certainly do, Emrys, and I am at your service on behalf of King Rodor, the Princess, my beloved sister, and indeed all of Nemeth.” Prince Rodric had kneeled at Merlin’s feet and with closed fist had thudded the spot over his heart as he made his declaration with a mixture of pride and something not unlike amusement. It was in that moment that Gwaine accepted that they were being called to complete their unfinished business. It would appear that the first message strapped to the weary limb of a Peregrine Falcon from King Arthur’s court would be the first of many such communications to disrupt their two-year reprieve. Their past was calling them back and they could do nothing less than answer its baying wail.

Merlin had stood open mouthed and incredulous in the kitchen. Their simple rustic kitchen where for the last two years they had made their breakfasts and steeped their teas. A quiet haven where they fondly spied the variety of beasts that wandered into their garden. A private sanctuary where they made love up against the sink on playful Sunday afternoons and where they nursed the occasional hangover – rarely now – over strong cups of tea and a swift dose of Merlin’s Hangover Remedy.

In less than a turn of the sun dial, the small kitchen table had become a war table where the three men had spent many nights pointing and plotting at maps and discussing potential battle sites from Camelot to the Northern plains. Prince Rodric was nimble of mind and spirit. He was able to grasp the fullness of a situation in the blink of his dark eyes. He instantly saw potential threats and loopholes and offered plausible solutions with playfulness and positivity.

Gwaine liked the man very much. He could see that the young Prince’s approach was exactly what Merlin needed to avoid the maudlin helplessness and despair that had previously been his experience. The days of secretly facing unknown magical threats alone and in the shadows back in Camelot, were thankfully over. Although there were still moments, such as now, as they took respite by the river, where the Warlock still needed reminding.

Gwaine had been weaving little rings and hearts from the heather that grew across the rocky outcrops by the riverbed. Whilst Merlin had bathed, he linked his weavings into a chain of hearts and was now braiding a set of longer dried out twigs through the links to create a sturdy wreath. Gwaine looked on with endless patience and fondness as the lightly muscled Warlock tensed and twitched and rubbed his face in furious frustration.

From his slightly elevated position upstream, Gwaine watched closely as the leaf he had dropped in the water meandered its way down stream towards the barefooted beauty looking grumpy and solemn in the shallows. As it passed very near his lover’s foot Gwaine smiled to himself and stood silently upon his rock to gently toss the wreath into the moving stream. The crown of hearts bounced a little, then made its way, buoyant and beautiful towards the young man, still and crouched over the water.  
  
Merlin’s soft ebony locks were slicked back from his forehead now and dripping water down his shirtless back. The small rivulets of river water swirled their way down the slender man’s back making damp curling trails that left a smattering of goosebumps in their wake. Gwaine watched, salivating slightly as they made their sensual path towards the waist band sitting low on Merlin’s hips at the top of his rolled-up breaches. He imagined using his tongue to interrupt their tracks or better yet, to follow their inevitable path towards the natural parting of his lover’s arse cheeks. He felt himself harden at the thought of tasting the sweetness of the river water against the saltiness of his lover’s skin.

The chain of hearts was now bumping his siren’s slender ankle. Its path obstructed, it rocked about as if looking for another way around the man’s leg. But the tickle of the twigs startled Merlin and he made as if to flick an insect from behind him. His fingers brushed against the unexpected woven form and curiously he lifted it out of the water. Gwaine watched with warm delight as his lover’s gaze took in his craftmanship. His long pale fingers traced the shapes reverently and the corner of his mouth curved upwards.

Gwaine quietly witnessed the moment when the object of his desire looked down sheepishly with a smirk, and then pursed his lips looking undoubtedly pleased. With his head turned downstream Merlin rose and slowly raised the crown up and placed it carefully on his head. Gwaine watched as more droplets cascaded down the Warlock’s pale and slender neck and teased their way down the bumps along his spine. Merlin turned towards him then locking eyes, lips parted in anticipation.  
  
Gwaine wasted no time taking purposeful strides through the water until he was level with the man. He grasped Merlin’s elbows as the pale man reached for him and then dropped on bended knee into the stream before him. Merlin gasped in surprise. He looked stunning, his dark locks a captivating contrast with the tiny white and lavender flowers that now looked naturally woven through his hair. His pale skin gleamed wet and clean in the sunlight as Gwaine gazed up at him.

“My King,” Gwaine felt the semblance of his actions to Prince Rodric’s proclamation and so continued with, “I too am at your service until life is extinguished from my body - and then I imagine it will still live on in the afterlife.” He smiled but remained solemn and sincere.

“Gwaine,” Merlin protested, “I’m not a King”.

“You are the King of my heart and soul, Merls . . . you can’t argue with that”.

Merlin looked down at his mad lover with such fondness and despair at his antics.

“No, I cannot, my Heart” he answered quietly, lovingly.

“Therefore, I beg that you may allow me the honour of demonstrating my servitude, my Lord” Gwaine’s eyes were now mad with mischief and something else.  
  
Merlin snorted and allowed himself to be manhandled. Gwaine grasped for his _King’s_ breeches, tugging once on the cord that tentatively held them closed and clasped his broad hands around his Warlock. He remained on bended knee, flicking his hair out of his face and with a wicked gleam in his eyes, took his prize into the wet heat of his mouth.


	8. Farewells and promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Merlin and Gwaine prepare for the battle to save Camelot, Magdalene is brought into the fold and must face new responsibilities.

They had just finished a lunch of cold meats and preserves and polished off the last of the Cider bread that Isolde had baked especially. Sipping on Apple and Strawberry cider, Merlin watched the two chestnut shaggy heads sat close together on the log beneath the walnut tree that grew near the path that led to the barn. The pair were engrossed in the pieces of smooth leather now held firmly in Gwaine’s hands. Every now and then he tugged on a thick needle that pulled a strong leather chord through the row of holes punched neatly at the edges of the material. Magdalene’s eyes never left her father’s hands, even when the man seemed to speak softly in deep tones to her, meticulously describing his process as if he were speaking to an adult rather than a child.

As he tied the final knot, cutting and then looping the ends of the chord to tuck them neatly away, Magdalene stood excitedly still watching her _Uncle_ ’s actions lest she miss an important detail. Gwaine flicked his hair back and rose to his knees, holding the finished artefact in front of him to inspect in the afternoon sunlight. It was a leather sheath with an adjustable strap that could be worn over one shoulder and across the chest or wrapped around the waist. The letters embossed down one side spelled Magdalene and the chain of small leaves that wove their way in and out of the letters and along the length of the strap, were remarkably green and glittering, as he turned the item over confidently in his calloused hands.  
  
Merlin had helped to create the dye that went into the leaves. He had mixed plant pulp and ground tourmaline to create a thin paste which he ran through a finely woven piece of muslin. Tourmaline was known for its protective and healing properties but the Green Tourmaline that Merlin had selected was especially regarded as a nurturing element encouraging compassion, tenderness, patience and a sense of belonging. The Druidic Healer that had helped him select the gemstone spoke of it as the bringer of balance and joy and an aide to clarity and positivity of vision.

Under Gwaine’s watchful eye, the Warlock had used his magic to apply, bind and seal the mixture into the trail of miniature leaves, weaving in his own array of protective spells to complete the work. When Merlin had explained all this to his lover, Gwaine had grasped his jaw and kissed him hard and fervently. Finally breaking away, Merlin had been surprised to find Gwaine’s eyes flooded with emotion. They had grasped each other in a clutching embrace that spoke of deep gratitude for one another. For the unwavering understanding that always seemed to flow so easily between them.

  
“Is it finished, Uncle Gwaine?” the young girl dared to whisper.  
  
Gwaine tossed back his locks and regarded his wild daughter, one eye squinting and a cunning look in his eye. “Not quite” he said. The girl’s shoulders drooped, and she fidgeted in frustration. Gwaine looked up sharply at the girl who had grown strong and brown over the last two summers. Her hair was a soft flowing mess, most of it having fallen out of the long braid that stretched down her back like a shaggy snake. She wore breeches made from soft leather and a white shirt with billowing sleeves. It was slightly untucked at the back and with the violet coloured scarf Merlin had given her tied loosely around her neck, it made her look like a roguish, diminutive pirate. The resemblance between father and daughter made Merlin smirk.

Magdalene flinched at the small reprimand in her Uncle Gwaine’s look for her lack of patience and stood to attention, raising her head and looking with gravity at the leather sheath. She would summon all her patience and wait as long as it took for the task to be completed. Above all things she wanted this man to be proud of her. She would always rise to her better self in his presence, in a way that showed maturity beyond her years and was yet so endearing to all those who loved her.  
  
Merlin couldn’t help the swell of love that bloomed in his chest as he watched the pair. Gwaine glanced over to him in that moment and the steady look in his eyes set Merlin’s stomach aflutter with anticipation. He gave the ex-Knight of Camelot his best grin and placed his hand over his heart with a nod for good measure. Merlin recognised the small twitch at the corner of Gwaine’s mouth for what it was. The man was nervous.

Magdalene observed her hero as he knelt before her reaching into his jacket and removing a small dagger. In truth it was more like a short, slender sword. The pommel and quillon were intricately carved with a selection of protective runes that stretched all the way down the spine of the blade. The handle wrapped in tight braids of leather provided a comfortable grip that was simple rather than ornate. Magdalene gasped as she saw it held out on the palm of Gwaine’s broad hand.  
  
Looking up in wonder, her eyes silently asked _is that for me?_ Gwaine smiled then closed his mouth in tight assent. He beckoned her with a finger and pointed to the grassy patch before him. Magdalene promptly kneeled, her arms held loosely by her sides and looked up at his face. From the love seat only a few strides away Merlin could see the expressions on their faces with clarity. He observed the slight tremor in the girl’s frame almost as if she guessed at the importance of this moment. Tristan and Isolde were completely unaware of Gwaine’s intentions and yet the pair had appeared almost as if summoned by some unknown spirit. The couple stood silently on the opposite side of the tree, taking in the scene before them.

“Maggie, I only have one good memory of my father and today I would like to share it with you, if you are willing to hear it?”

Magdalene shifted on the grass before him and clasped her hands behind her back. Her face was upturned and solemn as she answered in a dry voice “Yes please, Uncle Gwaine”  
  
Gwaine smiled at her approvingly and began.

“Very well. When I was a lad of eight, my father presented me with my first knife. He told me that it was a tradition in his family for a knife to be crafted especially by a father for his first-born son.” Gwaine paused here, locking eyes with his daughter and silently sending her all the love he could muster in that gaze. Merlin swallowed inaudibly as he watched, and Isolde reached for Tristan’s hand as they regarded the brave ex-Knight.

He continued, “In the giving of this weapon, as a father, he was passing on the faith and belief that his child would achieve great things. In the receiving of the knife, the child would not only take on responsibility for the care of the weapon but offer a vow and commitment to always strive forward with honour and strength.”

Magdalene was silent but her bottom lip appeared to tremble as she locked gazes with the man before her.  
  
“Magdalene, I have crafted this blade especially for you. In presenting it to you I do so confidently because I can already see what a fine warrior you will be. I ask you to take good care of this blade and treat it with respect. In the same way I would ask you to treat all living things with respect. I want you to remember that our compassion for others is our greatest weapon. Are you ready to vow that you will strive forward with honour, strength and compassion?”  
  
Magdalene took a trembling breath “Yes I am”.  
  
“Rise upon one knee and hold your hand out.” She complied.  
  
Reverently, Gwaine placed the blade across her hands and gently wrapped the fingers of her tiny hand around its leather-bound handle.

“I accept your vow on this day, your eighth year and anniversary and I present to you this blade, crafted by your father . . .” his voice wavered not despite his racing heart. Her eyes whipped up to his, a small furl of confusion on her brow, “and I give it to you with great faith and love as my first-born child”. The tears were already spilling down Merlin’s face as he watched holding his breath. Tristan and Isolde leaned forward towards the girl but held back waiting to see her response. And Gwaine. Well Gwaine’s face was ashen with the strain and the cold fear that his daughter might reject the news. He had prepared himself for the possibility, but nothing could really prepare him for what this moment meant to him.  
  
Magdalene looked down at the blade with awe. She turned to look at her mother standing with Tristan just beyond the shade of the tree. They smiled and nodded to her. She looked across at Uncle Merlin, who summoning all of his strength, flashed her his best grin and clasped his hands together over his heart. Magdalene turned back to look at the blade and asked in a steady voice, “May I rise now, Father?”  
  
There was a collective intake of breath as she uttered the words. Gwaine swayed slightly on the spot and managed to breathe what sounded like a “Yes” that seemed to rise up at the end like a question.

  
The little warrior reached for her leather sheath held loosely in Gwaine’s hands, and carefully took it from him. She turned it over in her hands, smoothing the soft leather with her fingertips and taking in the beautiful details. Carefully, she strung it over her shoulder and buckled the strap at her waist. Confidently, she slid the knife into its sheath with a satisfied nod of her chin.

Magdalene tossed her hair out of her face and looked up at her father with a grin. “I knew it!” she cheered before launching herself at his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. Gwaine gathered her up in his arms on reflex and buried his face in her hair.

They stayed like that, under the boughs of the walnut tree in Tristan and Isolde’s garden in the late afternoon sun. Merlin chewed his lip to bite back sobs of joy that wanted out, his watery blue eyes glued to the tender scene. Somehow, Gwaine managed to stay upright, legs shaking with adrenalin, heart pounding in his chest, rocking his little girl in his arms and murmuring his love into her hair.  
  


  
Ironically, it was harder to leave Little Tam than it had been to reveal his paternity to his daughter. Magdalene was furious that she had to stay behind. _Did he not say that she was a great warrior?! She could hold her own! She wouldn’t get in the way! Why couldn’t she ride at her Father’s side into battle? Isn’t that where she belonged?!_

In the end Gwaine had soothed her by acknowledging that she was indeed a great warrior and that is why he needed her assistance to take care of her mother and Tristan and to keep an eye out for any injured animals that might turn up at the apothecary while they were gone. That had appealed to the warrior-maiden’s sense of duty. However, it was Merlin’s request that had finally given her peace.  
  
The pair had become quite close, especially when Merlin had revealed his magical abilities. Not because she was particularly impressed by the dancing dragons he conjured in the fireplace or the buoyant, blue butterflies he conjured from her hair. It was the Warlock’s way with natural beasts that had intrigued her. The way they trusted him and allowed him to touch them even in the midst of pain. His gentle care as he placed healing hands upon their wounded bellies or broken paw. The strange whispered enchantments he uttered that soothed their whimpers and ceased their eye rolling grimaces.

Magdalene was awed by the way a wandering kestrel would suddenly swoop down towards the man as he sipped his morning tea in their back garden. The bird would hover close before him, as if in silent communication for several minutes. Merlin’s unsurprised, upturned face, open and smiling as he gently spoke to the winged creature before it took off into the open sky. As a result, she had taken to following him around, asking curious questions and helping him to gather herbs for the potions he used to heal all manner of beast. Merlin had taken to calling in to collect the little girl when a litter of piglets was due, or the local cow was about to deliver her calf.  
  
It was after Tom the Baker's black mare had delivered twin foals that Merlin decided to appeal to Magdalene’s compassionate nature. The heavy mare had struggled to birth the first twin which had twisted onto its side in utero. Merlin had been called on to turn the unborn foal into a better position for delivery. The mare had thrashed and nickered with the pain of contractions that worked against her mal-positioned foal.

The father of the unborn foals was a grey stallion that had been housed with the mare since they were young foals themselves. Upon hearing the distress of his lifetime companion the stallion bucked and stomped, braying in its despair. Merlin was arm-deep in his task, sweat pouring down his back and into his sapphire blue eyes. He called for Magdalene who stood troubled but unafraid on the sidelines watching the scene unfold.  
  
“Maggie-love! Come to me” he called. The young warrior-maiden snapped to attention and was at his elbow in a flash.  
  
“What is it Uncle Merlin?” she asked leaning in close her hands at the ready.  
  
“I need you to calm Prince. He’s thrashing about and Queenie here is becoming more distressed by his cries. She needs to be at ease to release her foal so that I can turn it about. Do you understand?”  
  
The young girl looked over at the corralled area of the barn, where Prince was thrashing around, rattling the stalls and making the posts creak as he strained against the ropes that tethered him in. The girl looked slightly startled but bravely asked,  
  
“What do I do to calm him, Uncle Merlin?”  
  
“Talk to him Maggie. Just keep talking to him. Tell him about your adventures. Keep your voice low and constant and don’t touch him until all four hooves are on the ground. Then keep talking and firmly stroke his neck. You can hop up on one of the barrels. Whatever you do, do not go into the stall as he may hurt you by accident”.

“Ok” she whispered, closing her small hands into fists and walking towards the thrashing sounds coming from the barn.  
  
“Maggie-love!” Merlin called, wiping the back of his bare forearm across his brow.  
  
Magdalene turned quickly, her face wearing the determination and responsibility of her task. Merlin smiled warmly at the exceptional little girl before him. “You were made for this love. Remember he’s frightened and you have courage enough for the both of you.”  
  
The warrior-maiden lifted her head and gave him a brief smile and a nod and then rolling up her sleeves she turned towards the troubled stallion.  
  
Eventually, after casting a series of calming enchantments the mare had huffed and sighed. Merlin had only needed to apply some gentle encouragement from within and the slippery newborn had tumbled onto the soft earth to the sounds of Magdalene’s soothing narrative. Shortly after another foal had emerged much to Maggie’s delight. The baker and his wife, Grace, had been most grateful, slapping Merlin’s back and sending the pair home with bundle of fresh vegetables from their garden and a baked pie and sweet rolls fresh from the oven.

As they walked back along the dirt track towards the Apothecary, where Maggie was due for a sleep over, the little girl was unusually quiet. Merlin had praised the girl for her great work with the stallion and explained why the foal had found itself in trouble in the first place. Maggie had accepted the information with a thoughtful nod and eventually asked,  
  
“Uncle Merlin, why was Prince so upset?”  
  
“Well Maggie-love, animals are sentient beings. Just because they are happy to pull our carts or give us milk, doesn’t mean they don’t feel sadness and joy, fear and pain, just like we do.” He glanced at the girl and continued. “Prince could sense Queenie’s distress. He could hear her struggling and in pain and no doubt wanted to protect her. I imagine if he had been let free, he may have trampled me in his efforts to protect his mate. Not because he intended to do me harm but because he was desperate to be close to her in that moment”.  
  
The girl remained silent for a few paces.  
  
“Is that why Papa says I shouldn’t try to pet Gypsy’s new puppies. She snapped at me once when I tried to pick one up. It was strange because she’s always been so gentle before.” The day under the walnut tree was the last day Magdalene had called Gwaine, ‘Father’. It was her own choice to call him Papa, which Gwaine adored.

  
“That’s exactly why. Mothers and Fathers, be they dogs or horses, will always try to protect their loved ones.”  
  
“Just like people, right?”  
  
Merlin smiled at her wisdom, “Just like people”. And then a thought struck him.  
  
“Maggie-love, you know, that’s why your Papa wants you to stay behind when we leave for Camelot. He needs to know that you and your Mama and Tristan are safe.”

Maggie stopped walking and reached for Merlin’s hand. The Warlock put down the bundles he was carrying.

“Uncle Merlin, when you leave . . . will you protect my Papa? With your Magic?”  
  
Merlin dropped down on one knee and looked into the maiden-warrior’s deep brown eyes that so resembled her father’s. He grasped both her tiny hands in his large warm ones.  
  
“Magdalene, I promise you that I will protect your father with all that I have.”  
  
“Good.” She said. She made as if to walk on but then turned back quickly to the Warlock before he could rise. She placed her hand on his shoulder and asked, “But who will look after you, Uncle Merlin?”  
  


Merlin smiled, eyes shining at the little girl’s kind heart. He thought a moment about how to answer her, coming to his own realisation. “In the past, it was my job to protect the King but I had to keep my magic a secret and so I always faced magical battles alone. Things are different now. Your Papa has shown me that I don’t have to fight on my own. Gwaine, Sir Gwaine as he was once known, has ever been a courageous warrior – the strongest I have known. He will have my back and I will have his. I promise you Maggie-love that we will look after each other. In fact, we will have many people helping us this time”.  
  
“Okay, Uncle Merlin. I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Battle for Camelot and the unification of Albion is coming.


	9. A glimmer of doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing to leave Little Tam, Gwaine is worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that E is for Explicit sex

Gwaine stomped his boots by the front door, aiming to flake away the mud he’d collected along the path back from Tristan and Isolde’s. He was bone-weary from clearing out the loft and packing the last of the preserves and ciders. Deflecting pleas and protests from Tristan and Isolde that he need not worry about the work, Gwaine had put his back into it with a fierce and unrelenting determination to see the job done before his imminent departure. _Their_ imminent departure. He couldn’t help but cringe at the sense of desperation he had fought to keep at bay all day. It was there in the bitter sweat that glistened on his body and poured from his brow. It was evident in the unrelenting tension that plagued his neck and shoulders. He could not ignore its presence in the unsettling tightening and tremor of his gut as he watched Maggie swing her sword half-heartedly at the old oak in the centre of the garden.  
  
The little girl had clung too tightly as he’d said his goodbyes. Not for the last time. Not yet. They had two days before they would be heading to Nemeth to meet with Prince Rodric and Princess Mithian. Still, she had clung as if she might be able to keep her father a little longer if she held on tighter. She wasn’t far from the truth. It was getting near impossible for the once-knight to will himself from the grasp of grubby fingers and suffocating neck holds. Magdalene would bury her face in her father’s neck, her eyes shut tight squeezing back the childish tears she was too proud to let him see. Gwaine would swing the girl around forcing her to surrender to a playful spin before landing her on her feet. He’d swiftly kiss the top of her head and turn her by the shoulders in the direction of the cottage and with a light push, utter “Off with you, Squire.” It was easier to play at dismissal than to look his daughter in the eye to bid her adieu.  
  
Home now, he gave up on the boots, unlacing them enough to slip his feet out and step silently across the threshold of the Apothecary. The room was cool and bare beyond a collection of packed crates and small wooden boxes covered in old blankets. They were carefully arranged in rows at the edges of the room or tucked out of the way on the shelves. The dust mites dancing in haphazard eddies in the afternoon light, only served to add to the desolate atmosphere of the room.   
  
Gwaine traipsed through to the washroom next to the kitchen and tore off his damp socks and the tunic now clinging with perspiration from the walk home. He could hear the sounds of the creek wafting in from the back garden telling him that the back door was open. With a shuddering sigh he splashed water on his face and shook out his mane, drying his face with the cloth and making his way to the kitchen.  
  
Leaning in the open doorway he cast his gaze around the lush green yard until he found Merlin sitting on the grass. His back was bare and facing the cottage, his eyes no doubt half-closed and staring at nothing in particular. There was a leatherbound book and journal closed on the outdoor table and an empty glass attracting insects where he’d no doubt spent most of the day. Gwaine took a moment to observe his lover. The sway of his back gleamed with light perspiration, the waist of his breeches damp and loose only barely covering the strong muscles of his backside. Even in this innocent pose, Gwaine was gratified to feel the itch and twitch of his fingers that so readily ached to grasp the Warlock’s waist and wander over his hips questing for something a little more responsive. His heart gave a grateful little flutter momentarily reminding Gwaine that he was alive and there was hope.

Merlin straightened a little more, stretching arms up towards the sky, no doubt having sensed his lover’s silent presence behind him. Giving a loud and contended sigh, without turning, he curled his fingers playfully in the air inviting his man to come closer. Smirking, Gwaine lunged his body away from the door frame and headed towards his man. Coming right up behind him, Gwaine allowed his knees to brush up against the Warlock’s back and stretched his arms up alongside pale ones, interlacing their fingers and gently tugging them down in front of Merlin’s chest for a warm embrace. Merlin tipped his head back his wide grin meeting Gwaine’s now leaning down to bring their lips together in greeting.  
  
Fingers still grasped together, Merlin brought their hands up to hold Gwaine’s face, deepening the kiss to include warm open mouths, the pressing of tongues and appreciative murmurs. Gwaine disentangled his fingers to caress Merlin’s bare throat, tipped back, exposed and so tempting. He felt the tightening in his groin and the twitch of his cock almost painful in its abruptness. Suddenly urgent with desire, Gwaine slipped off his trousers and slid into Merlin’s lap, dragging his tongue wet and hot over the tendons of his pale neck. The saltiness of the Warlock’s skin made him hungry for more contact and he grabbed Merlin’s hand’s inviting him to squeeze his arse.

Merlin needed little encouragement to move his hands to grasp his lover, responding with a grin as Gwaine made to cover his lips with a barely smothered moan. Gwaine rolled his hips pushing desperately to find Merlin’s fingers whilst thrusting his tongue into the unexpectant mouth of his lover. Merlin felt a mix of lust and surprise at the force of his lover’s need. His fingers now buried inside the man he loved, he battled to keep up with the passion and near desperation evident and barely contained in the man he was now struggling to hold within his arms.  
  
Sapphire eyes blown wide with wonder, Merlin took in the sight of his lover, head thrown back, exposing the stubble of his throat, his eyes shut tight in an almost-grimace, he was near slamming himself back onto Merlin’s fingers and grinding forwards against his cock that had now inched its way out of his breeches. Gwaine’s hand gripped Merlin’s shoulder in a vice hold that was borderline painful as he leaned back in the Warlock’s arms, lifting himself up on his knees and impaling himself almost in one harsh move upon him. Gwaine let out an anguished roar as he slammed himself again and again onto his lover’s length. Although aroused, Merlin became aware that what was happening in his arms went beyond sensual need. He fought to keep a grip on Gwaine’s hips reaching an arm out and around to support Gwaine’s lower back, he tried to guide him up and down along his shaft, aiming to give the man everything he needed.

Gwaine gripped himself, almost as an afterthought, he was making so much noise now, a mixture of growls and whimpers that tugged at Merlin’s heart. The Warlock refused to waver. He would allow this man, this man he adored, to take whatever he needed. Merlin could see Gwaine breaking apart in his lap, there were tears and sweat streaming down his face and chest which was heaving as he gasped for breath.

Finally, the Warlock could feel the quiver of Gwaine’s belly before he suddenly convulsed and came hard with a shudder, collapsing into Merlin’s arms, chest heaving in erratic breaths and burying his face in his hands. Merlin’s arms were warm and steady, holding the broken man close in the formidable grip of his embrace and whispering, “Love, my heart, my beautiful heart, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, my heart”. When Gwaine tried to turn away and remove himself, shame obvious in the flush of his chest and his unseeing gaze, Merlin held on. His grip was firm but gentle, keeping Gwaine in place, still joined together and placing gentle kisses on his cheeks and eyelids.

Gwaine wept, silent apart from the occasional shuddering breath that wracked his whole body, forehead pressed against his lover. Once his breaths had evened out, Merlin had silently summoned a light blanket to wrap around Gwaine’s shoulders and another for himself. He had gently applied a cleansing spell and lifted the spent man from his lap and onto the grass in the space between his legs. There had been no resistance as he arranged Gwaine’s limbs and body to rest against his chest, cradling him in his arms until the troubled man had eventually fallen into a deep slumber.

Night had descended upon them, fireflies glowing in the shrubbery surrounding them and creating an enchanted haven for the men. An owl hooted softly in the wood behind them and Gwaine began to twitch himself to waking. Merlin gently carded his fingers through his lover’s locks, still a little damp from his exertions. After a little while Gwaine reached for Merlin’s spare hand giving it a gentle squeeze and placing it over his heart. Merlin murmured his love into the hair behind Gwaine’s ear and brought his other hand down to join the others.  
  
“Forgive me.” Gwaine’s voice was fragile, a croaking whisper in the silence.

Merlin sighed and brought one of his hands up to stroke Gwaine’s hair back from his face, tucking the ends behind his ear. “There’s nothing to forgive, Love. You needed me and I was gladly there for you. You can always take whatever you need from me.”  
  
Gwaine dropped his head, shaking it. “It was selfish. I was rough. I’m so sorry.”  
  
Merlin sucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth making a sound of despair. “No. It wasn’t selfish. We’ve been rougher than that by mutual consent and neither of us have ever complained. Stop apologising, my heart. I’d rather hear what’s got you feeling this way?”

There was a long silence, Merlin filling the space with patience and continued strokes through Gwaine’s silky locks.

  
“It’s Maggie. It’s leaving our home. It’s this war. Arthur. You . . .”

Merlin’s heart gave a lurch. “Woah. That’s quite a list. No wonder you’re upset. I think I understand the first two. I’m not looking forward to leaving that precious daughter of yours behind – I can only imagine it’s so much harder for you as her Dad. She means so much to us, Little Tam and Isolde, Tristan, our cottage . . . you’re right this place is home for both of us now.”

“You really feel that way Merls?” he sounded so unsure it broke Merlin’s heart.  
  
“Of course I do.” Merlin shifted his body, moving up on his knees and turning Gwaine’s shoulders until they were facing one another. He fussed with their blankets until both of them were tucked neatly away from the cold night air. “I love you so much Gwaine.” He continued. “Building a home and a life here has only made my love for you so much stronger, deeper. And then there’s Maggie . . . I love the bones of that girl. I feel like - I know it’s presumptuous - and she isn’t I know . . . but still, sometimes I like to think we’re a family.” He spoke in earnest, shyly rambling about the bits that mattered most.

Gwaine’s eyes shone with appreciation and surprising relief. “I’m so glad you feel that way. I wasn’t sure if this felt like home to you. I wondered if you might be missing Camelot.” These last words were said so quietly, echoing his earlier insecurity.  
  
“Is that what’s really worrying you? That I might be looking forward to returning to Camelot? That I may want to stay there? Is that why Arthur was on your list? You think I want to return to him?”

Gwaine’s eyes were aimed at Merlin’s chest. He was silently chewing the inside of his lip, refusing to look up at Merlin.  
  
“Gwaine?”  
  
“Yes.” He whispered. “Yes. The bond between you two was so strong. The prophecy. Destiny. They’re big things Merls. Bigger than me. Bigger than Little Tam. He sent for you. We’re going back and I can’t help but wonder . . .”

“Gwaine.” Merlin gripped Gwaine’s face firm but tenderly forcing him to look into his eyes. “As much as I loathe to admit, I can’t shirk my destiny. I _must_ go back and help defend Camelot. I _will_ honour my commitment to fight alongside Arthur. I will do _whatever_ it takes to unite Albion.” Gwaine nodded solemnly and dropped his gaze. “But I had hoped that you would be by _my_ side”.

Gwaine looked up then as Merlin continued. “I made a promise to a very special 8-year-old that I would do whatever it takes to keep you safe and I also reassured her that you would be there to keep me safe. Did I get that right?” His eyes were twinkling with a faint tease in his tone but Gwaine could see a glimmer of doubt in the Warlock’s eyes too.

Gwaine reached for Merlin’s hands bringing the pale fingertips to his lips and touching each one with a warm kiss. “Yes, you were right, my love”.  
  
Merlin stood then, offering his hand and pulling Gwaine to his feet. He stepped in closer, letting his blanket fall open so that he could stand chest to chest, skin on skin with his lover. He ducked his head towards Gwaine’s ear and brought his mouth close, his breath warm and teasing causing the long-haired man to shiver. “Good.’ He whispered. “Now come inside with me. I want the comfort of our bed beneath us when you take _me_ long and slow this time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write a Beyond Merthur series of fan fics because I love Merthur but it doesn’t change the fact that Arthur is a prat and sometimes Merlin deserves so much better (this needs to be a tag!). I have written a collection of fanfics featuring Merlin in different pairings. My OTP is Merwaine so naturally I chose to make this my first ever published work. Would love to hear what you think.


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